


if your name is peter and you're bad at jenga come on raise your hand

by Ididntsignupforthisshit (myhamartia)



Series: *stay with me by sam smith plays while peter looks out the car window, makeup smeared to hell* [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Anxiety, F/F, F/M, Feminine Pronouns for Peter Parker, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Peter Parker, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), Genderfluid Peter Parker, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Masculine Pronouns for Peter Parker, Multi, Peter Parker's Generation Z Inner Commenary, Trans Character, altho he uses he/him pronouns, give my bab a rest 2kNow, harley is the favorite child fight me, slight - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 10:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14893010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myhamartia/pseuds/Ididntsignupforthisshit
Summary: He wasn’t going to take Peter off the case, but rather put them on it full time for now.Oh yeah, Tony had been talking to Rhodey, and they had apparently decided that these guys were enough of a priority that they couldn’t afford to let it get away from them.So they came up with a plan. A plan thatheavilyincluded Peter.‘CausePeter… was going to go undercover.| Or: Harley is the Favorite Child, Peter gets a Big Mission and has to tell May about it, May is a badass at Jenga unlike Peter, and Loki is yet another local genderqueer bab whom we hold dear |





	if your name is peter and you're bad at jenga come on raise your hand

**Author's Note:**

> ;)  
> hi  
> im back  
> got my loki, finally, thank god. but i gotta say it's not _Enough_  
>  _anyway, yall enjoy now ♥_  
>  honestly, if you're new and haven't read the other parts, what are you doin hon. this is the third part to a cohesive series. blease,,,, come back later with better cred,,,,,,,,,,,  
> oh and ive only looked this over once so please excuse any fuck ups, ill look it over more thoroughly sometime tomorrow

“I’m seriously sorry about standing you guys up,” Peter apologized for probably the sixteenth time in the past half an hour.

Bucky looked at him, completely unimpressed. “Don’t distract yourself,” he warned.

“From wha- _Oh God!_ ” Peter screeched, twisting and launching himself away from Bucky as he charged for him. Bucky caught his shirt and yanked him back, throwing him down onto the mat.

“From that,” Bucky said easily, totally calm and breathing evenly. How rude, man, ‘cause Peter had the breath knocked out of him and was struggling up against the boot pressed against his windpipe.

Peter patted at Bucky’s calf, when he didn’t move right away, he grabbed Bucky's foot, twisting viciously, throwing Bucky off balance so he could roll away.

“Rude. So fucking rude,” Peter gasped out as he used the momentum to roll up to his knees.

“But not uncalled for,” Steve said from where he was chilling on the sidelines. He sipped at a bottle of water like an _asshole_ , just watching as Peter rubbed at his neck, swallowing carefully. He cleared his throat and refocused on Bucky, letting Steve’s words wash over him like a PSA going over the intercom at Target. “If what you’re saying is distracting from the fight, then you should probably keep your commentary to a minimum.”

Peter snorted, responding as Bucky moved towards him. Peter took a step back for every step Bucky took towards him.

“I, like, literally can’t shut my mouth,” Peter protested. “It’s in my resume. I talk too much. I make people uncomfy, and then they _lose their goddamn minds_. It’s my best quality.” He mimed _mind: blown_ with his hands, and grinned when Bucky made a face. Peter backed a few more steps until he was in danger of getting backed up against the corner of the room. He glanced to the mirror a few feet behind Steve, just to check their positions.

Great, cool. He’s got this, man!

He stood his ground, but Bucky kept on coming, looking dangerous and threatening _AF_.

Okay, uh. Peter took another step back.

And that, of course, was when Bucky launched himself towards Peter. Peter really wished someone would’ve recorded this, because? Honestly? Peter’s bomb as _hell_.

He turned and ran four steps up the wall until he could jump off into a somersault. Thank God Bucky didn’t stop, because he was totally in range so Peter could reach out and grab onto his neck on the way down, pulling him back down onto the mat. _Hard._

And, don’t worry, your question was heard plainly. _Did_ Peter shout something weird like _YEET_ on his way down? Well...

Decline to comment. Colon, capitol p.

Bucky choked on his breath a bit, but was mostly fine. He knew that Bucky could have broken his hold – it wasn’t that great, but _that execution, though. Ooh_ – but he let Peter hold his neck for just a few seconds before he _tapped TF out_.

He hopped up, only panting a little. “Friday!” he shouted, popping a fist in the air as he ran back across the room to Steve. Bucky sat up, probably rolling his eyes like an _adult_. Gross. “Play that at my funeral. Send that clip out with my wedding invitations. And at my baby’s birth announcements.” He grinned triumphantly, looking at Steve expectantly.

Steve just offered out his fist. Which – _SCORE._

You’ve got no idea. Harley and Peter had been trying to get Cap to understand the concept of a fist bump for the past, oh, little while. Sometimes he’d look it up online and see people doing weird explosions and making sound effects with their mouths, and Steve thought that was ridiculous, so he got self-conscious about it. Totally dumb, but whatever.

Peter grinned even wider and pounded Steve’s fist with _relish_.

And then Steve sighed and clapped his hand over Peter’s shoulder. “You don’t have to apologize anymore,” he insisted. “I’m pretty sure you covered it, already.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Dude,” he groaned, “you don’t get it. May would totally kill me if she knew that I stood y’all up without even saying anything. It’s _so rude, man_. I feel like I have to, like, carry a spoonful of water up a rock mountain without spilling it to prove my trustworthiness again, or something.” He shrugged. “Aunt May’s family is Canadian, and I’m here feeling like my Honorary Canadian Card has been, like, revoked. Do you know what it’s like to eat waffles, but you eat them dry because you’re so overwhelmed with shame to eat them with maple syrup because you’ve disgraced your people? I do, Cap. _I do._ ” His hand was pressed firmly against his chest, feeling pretty patriotic if he did say so himself.

Steve looked pretty amused, laughing like a school kid, and Peter felt this, like, pride feeling fill him up. He made Cap _giggle_.

Peter Parker: 1, Universe: 637. He was catching up, man.

Peter caught Bucky’s reflection and watched out of the corner of his eye as he neared them again. He dropped his hand on Peter’s head and ruffled his hair a bit. Peter smiled up at him. “We good?” he asked, offering out his hand. Bucky took it and shook it firmly.

“Sure, kid.” He looked at his boyfriend, and then back down to Peter “Stevie’s right, though.”

 _(_ And _OMG._ Bucky just called Captain America _Stevie_. What was life? Sam was going to get a kick out of that.

Turns out, he and Peter had bonded quite a bit over the pining apparently no one but Peter had picked up on. Well. Wanda probably did, let’s be real. She was shifty and _in the know_ , and totally great, and Peter loved her.

Shit, what were they talking about?)

“’Bout what?” he asked, blinking innocently, trying to make it look like he totally didn’t just lose track of their simple conversation because Bucky was being soft with his sweetie pie.

“You don’t have to feel bad,” Bucky said, picking up on complete sentences. “It’s done. We let it go as soon as Sam told us how bad a time you were having-,”

Peter made a face, thinking _what the fuuckk_. Then he slowly shook his head and let his shoulders slump. “Y’all practically live in each other’s pockets, I don’t know why the heck I’m surprised.”

Steve frowned a little. “We don’t live in each other’s pockets.”

Peter stared him down. (A cool skill to have, Peter realized. Put that next to _Big Mouth, Makes Everyone Uncomfy_ on his resume. _Can Stare Captain “Stars and Stripes” America down._ ) “Dude,” he said softly, like he was offended for Sam. Like honestly, how dare they deny their connection with _Peter’s dude, man_.

Unbelievable.

“Anyway,” Peter waved away the conversation (totally successfully, too. Whoop!).

“No, listen,” Bucky insisted. (Fuck. Gotta work on that some more.) Peter’s shoulders slumped a little and he nodded once to show he was listening. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. We’re more than glad you didn’t drag yourself down here and try to stretch yourself out farther when you were already dealing with buckets’ worth.”

Peter frowned. “Still should’a said something,” he grumbled.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” Bucky tossed a look to Steve. “Now, I don’t know about you two, but I’m ready for lunch.”

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Good call,” he praised, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I’m gonna go shower.”

They said their farewells, and Peter hurried to the locker room. Within twenty minutes, he was showered, dressed, and began padding barefoot down the stairs to the third floor after dumping his dirty clothes into the hamper in his room.

Harley was in the kitchen with a carton of orange juice halfway to his mouth. He was turned away from the fridge, like he was on the lookout for people while he went about his crime. Sure enough, he stopped, wide eyed as he spotted Peter turning the corner.

Peter stopped in his tracks, just like Harley did. He blinked slowly. “Dude,” he said. “Pour me a glass before you drink from that, and I won’t tell Tony.”

The orange juice was dealt, and Harley took a swig before he put it back into the door of the refrigerator. Harley casually wiped his mouth and slid into the barstool next to Peter.

“You know that Friday totally sees you every time you do that, right?” Peter asked, an amused smirk playing at his mouth.

Harley snorted. “I’m her favorite of us kids,” he said matter-of-factly. “She loves me, and lets things slide. Middle child charm.”

Peter lifted an eyebrow at him. “That is so screwed up,” he declared. “That’s, like, blatant favoritism.”

“Deal with it,” Harley laughed. “You’re the baby, we gotta take care of you. And Vis is like. Older. Has no need for favoritism. But me? I’m living easy.”

Peter knocked his shoulder into Harley’s. “You’re dumb.”

“Dumb, ditsy, and damn delightful.” Harley grinned at him before pushing Peter’s glass closer to him. “Drink up, kiddo. Gotta get up your strength.”

He might've grumbled, but he drank his juice, by God. Not his fault he almost choked on it. “Oh my God!” Peter exclaimed, remembering what just went down a floor above. “Friday, can you pull up that clip I told you to save? Where I totally owned Bucky?”

Friday pulled up a convenient little holoscreen and Peter bounced in his seat excitedly. “Fuck yes! Harley, watch. Watch, watch, watch-.”

* * *

 

     Peter sat on their bed, skin bare to the room as they stared into their open closet. Some clothes were hung up, some were folded and put on their shelves. There were shoes set along on special shoe shelves, each one a step higher than the last.

They didn’t know what to wear. They were kinda nervous, and, of course, with damn good reason.

Peter had been nervous since last week. Okay, so the first few days was a weird mix of relief and nervousness.

They’d debriefed Tony, Rhodey and Pepper on their mission, and they freaked the heck out. Which they saw coming. They _counted_ on it. They sat in their high-backed Conference Room Vibe’d™ chair, twisting the heel of their pretty red pump into the coarse carpeting of the floor while Tony had his freak out, berating them for not calling someone.

 _I called Sam_ , they protested.

And then Tony got all huffy because Sam didn’t check in, or at least didn’t make Tony _aware_ of the situation.

They’d talked through it all, and Pepper made Tony shut up and not interrupt Peter any more as they walked them through everything that happened.

And then Tony asked where the gun was. Which. _Funny story_.

They were totally gonna bring it, but they were kinda _Stressed_ because they thought that Tony was just gonna smite Peter where they stood as soon as they walked in the door, and they lowkey wanted Tony to go back in to get the suit, and gun - only to look May in the eye and tell her why her kid was now a pile of weird toasty gloop – sure, it was mostly so that May wouldn’t feel _too_ bad, because, admittedly, Peter had done some stupid shit.

But then they realized that Tony had already been in that situation, where he had to find May and tell her that he had gotten her kid killed, and was, in fact, in a little pile somewhere.

And goddamn, didn’t that make Peter panic and feel _really, really shitty._

Pepper crouched in front of them, voice gentle and sweet. Her hand held Peter’s as she talked them through it. Tony was really quiet, off to the side. His face was gaunt, and Peter felt shitty about that, too.

They launched out of their chair, nearly knocking Pepper over as they went to squeeze Tony in a hug.

They apologized to Pepper, no worries. Even helped her up from the floor as she laughed.

There was a real awkward moment for a minute there until Rhodey cleared his throat. Peter looked to him, and he was half sitting on the table, looking over the trio.

“So what’s this mean for your guys?” he asked.

 _Oof_ , a heavy question. Tony took a deep breath and said that they would have to figure it out.

The next few days was figuring it out. They made Peter nervous, because they never knew when Tony was going to inevitably call them into the office that he hardly ever used and pull the plug, tell them that Peter was absolutely done with this group and they should go back to small-time criminals.

That didn’t happen. Obviously.

Instead, they got pulled into Tony’s office (scary) and got told to sit down. Tony pushed a box of apple fritters across the desk and urged them to take one.

They picked the bread apart as Tony talked, too ate up with nerves to actually  _eat._

He wasn’t going to take Peter off the case, but rather put them on it full time for now. Peter had to make him repeat it.

Oh yeah, Tony had been talking to Rhodey, and they had apparently decided that these guys were enough of a priority that they couldn’t afford to let it get away from them – but they were so integrated into their little underground community that taking out their one base was gonna be pretty ineffective, because they were just gonna crop up somewhere else. Silly criminals.

So they came up with a plan. A plan that _heavily_ included Peter.

‘Cause _Peter_ … was going to go undercover.

…

…

…

Right?

_RIGHT?!_

One half of Peter was totally stoked and you know was _completely_ dancing around in their little mind-scape to air horns blasting and stupid summer dance beats. The other half questioned _WTAF Tony was thinking._

Like. Peter? _Peter_ , Peter? Undercover? As in: without a mask and hella cool web shooters?

Stressful. Their stomach was all tied up in ugly, no-good knots as they thought about it.

Tonight, they were supposed to tell Aunt May about it. She was gonna come spend the weekend at the compound, since Peter couldn’t exactly get home any time soon, as they were busy both with helping Tony repair and update the Spiderman suit (“You broke it, kid, you’re gonna at least help me fix it.” “ _Technically, I wasn’t the one who broke it.”_ “Save the lip before I make you go out in vintage Spidey pajamas.”) and were trying to plan the whole _undercover_ stuff out.

Which was cool and all, but _Tony was making **Peter** tell Aunt May._

So not cool, Tony. Maybe Harley _really was_ the favorite kid.

And now May was twenty minutes away, and Peter was stressing about what they were gonna wear to their funeral. Because that was obviously what this was going to end with.

Sighing tightly, they picked out a pair of short overalls. The simple ones. Their floral pair might’ve been just a bit over the top.

Obviously not that they cared, because there was a floral Hawaiian patterned tee that they put under it. Their socks weren’t long, but they were super mismatched. And they called it a day, flicking the light off as they left the room.

“What’s her ETA, Friday?” they asked, stopping smack in the middle of the living room.

“Approximately seventeen minutes.”

Peter nodded tightly, trying not to curse or melt into a puddle of goop were they stood. “Alert me when she gets here, please. I gotta go, like… play Jenga, or something.”

Friday sounded amused. “I’ll tell you.”

* * *

 

     Jenga did its magic and took Peter’s mind right off of May.

Well, after they got past the first few rounds with Harley. _Annnddd_ after Wanda came along to play with them. They were really strict with her once they spied her trying to move the blocks hand-free. _How_ silly of her.

Harley screeched when he saw it, shouting about how it was cheating, and honestly, how was he older than Peter?

And when the tower began to get tall, things got heated. Which was also when Thor popped up and demanded to know what they were playing. He thought it was totally funny, how they were playing with blocks like children.

Harley scoffed and Peter just moved over, patting the space between them, beckoning him to join the circle around the coffee table.

He prodded the tower too much and the entire thing came tumbling down – he didn’t take too well to being declared loser, so he demanded a retry. Peter scratched their nails through their hair excitedly and smoothed their hands over their face and ears. They took their Friday earpiece out and settled it on the table.

Wanda moved her hands, and the blocks assembled on their own.

They made a small exception to the “no magic” rule they stamped on her.

“I am taking the first move,” Thor said, looking at Peter and Harley testily. He turned towards the tower with sure hands. This time, he ran his fingers smoothly along the sides, looking for weak spots in the structure. His face was super close to the blocks. If it were the eyes of some living person, Peter was sure that they would be swooning. “Ah-ha!” Thor declared softly, voice but a breath.

It was kinda funny, seeing such a huge guy carefully (dare they say _gingerly?_ ) extract a mid-level block from a Jenga tower before placing the block on top in the same ultra-careful way.

They clapped for him, and Thor’s smile was proud, but humble. “Please,” he said, a modest hand pressed to his chest. “It was nothing.”

Harley snorted, grinning. “Whatever,” he laughed, nudging Thor with his elbow. “Move over, my turn.”

Harley’s practiced fingers quickly plucked a block from the very bottom and put it _totally_ uneven on the top.

Wanda narrowed her eyes at the billion places she could take from, and ended up pulling one from the bottom, on the other side from where Harley pulled his.

Peter sniffed sourly, flexing their fingers, considering their options. “Y’all are gonna be the death of me.”

Movement across the room caught their eyes, and their head snapped up to see none other than Aunt May turning the little corner to the living room. Her bag was hooked over her arm and sunglasses here perched on the crown of her head.

Scratch what they said, this was a whole new kind of death.

They swayed forward just a little bit and their finger poked into the side of the tower. It teetered for half a second before it finally made a graceful fall to scatter all over the coffee table.

They couldn't hear the other's cheers around enough Wanda clasped into their shoulder, rocking them to the side until they were practically on the floor. They shook their head and pushed back up to sit.

“What are we playing?” Aunt May demanded as soon as she came near them, looking over everything with wide eyes. Did her eyes linger over Thor? Yeah. So did Peter’s. ‘Cause…. Well… Have you seen him? He’s a ten living in a four’s world.

“Jenga!” Harley answered, instantly getting to his feet so he could round the table and throw his arms around May. “Hello!”

May laughed and hugged him back. “Hello, Harley. How’s your Mom?”

Funny thing about the faux-Stark kids. Their guardians had this, like, fuckin’, _beehive connection_. The first time May had met Janice, Harley’s Mom, they clicked. They talk on the phone a lot, and May’s always popping in with _just_ _something funny Jan said_ , or how they were trying new recipes that Janice sent to May. Sure, May didn’t really know how to cook, but she always tried them out because _Jan_ sent them.

Did Peter smell a crush?

They didn’t know, but they realized that the space between Tennessee and New York City was _wide_ , and being without your partner _sucks_.

Which.

Uh oh.

They hadn’t even thought about Ned and Michelle in relation to the whole “Tony Stark’s got a _mission_ for me” kind of way. They were going to have to tell them sometime soon. _Fuck_ , they did not think this through.

Adding that to the list, they dragged themselves out of their mind and focused back in on the conversation. May smiled across the table from them, and they smiled back easily, waving their hand at her cheekily. She winked at them as Wanda fixed the blocks back up and motioned May to go first.

She laughed delightedly and wiggled her fingers as she dove for a block, like, _super-fast_. She flicked the bottom block out and settled in atop the tower with a little smile as Thor’s mouth dropped into a frown.

“Surely that cannot be allowed,” he said slowly, narrowing his eyes.

“No, we’ll allow it,” Wanda said, raising her hand to take another block.

Peter leaned back on their elbows, biding their time until their turn. May looked at them and they tried to smile convincingly as their internal struggle raged on, demanding what they were gonna do.

* * *

 

     Dinner was hectic as always – even if Tony had dinner drone-lifted in, and specially ordered to everyone’s tastes. There was the clink of plates and the swell of conversation. May was talking with Wanda and Clint somewhere down the table, and Peter wondered how Natasha and May would hit it off.

Tony was having dinner with Pepper and Rhodey tonight, Peter didn’t remember if it was for an anniversary or just… date night, maybe.

Tony was nowhere around, meaning that Peter couldn’t just be like _Yo Aunt May! Tony has something to tell you ha, ha, ha, nudge, nudge, go on Tony, tell her!_ And then book it. She was seriously considering the option, and then Tony just _bam!_ Took that option away.

So rude.

Peter pushed at her food with a resigned huff, picking at orange chicken with a pair of disposable chopsticks.

“I believe the chicken’s days of running are over,” Loki advised, talking out of the side of his mouth. Peter looked up to him questioningly, but he just looked at her plate significantly.

“Oh,” she said hollowly.

“What ails you?” Loki asked softly, looking Peter over with a small frown. His posture was straight and that didn’t change as he leaned farther back into his seat, taking his wine glass with him.

Peter just shrugged her shoulders. “Uh… I’ve gotta tell my Aunt something super big and kind of scary, and I’m not sure how.”

“To her face would most likely be the preferred option,” he noted, face a beautiful mix of stony seriousness and mirth. Peter snorted and took a bite of her chicken. “Aha! He does eat.”

Peter flushed and focused on chewing before she, like, choked or something. Not fun, dude.

A little screen popped up in front of Loki, orange and cream colored. A notification related to Peter’s pronoun board. Tony called it a gentle reminder, just something to say _hey, you kinda misgendered my kid. Check yourself and try again_.

And that was a quote from the report telling everyone that he was going to implement it. He also asked if anyone else needed the pronoun board, which Peter thought was really sick.

Loki scanned over the letters for a moment before making a tiny movement with his fingers so that the characters changed into something Peter assume was Asgardian. She knew that Loki sometimes struggled with the English language, purely because he hadn’t yet found the time to simple sit down with it. Peter thought that he could probably master it pretty quickly; after all, Loki was, like, totally wicked smart.

She watched his micro expressions, or lack thereof, and kind of held her breath, _really_ hoping that there wasn’t going to be an issue that disrupted dinner. ‘Cause that would just. Suck. And she wasn’t here for any kind of gender-based fight in the Avenger household.

‘Cause that would also just fucking _suck._

Seconds after the change, he hummed and snapped his fingers, banishing the notice. He turned to Peter with soft eyes and placed a hand over his chest, dipping his head in what Peter assumed was an apology.

Peter shrugged it away, stuffing another few pieces of chicken into her mouth. “I didn’t mind.”

“Oh! Brother, I see you’ve also gotten word about our young Peter!”

Peter’s head whipped to Thor, her jaw dropping just a bit. Wait, hold on _just a sec_. _Thor knew?_ And hadn’t _said anything about it!?_

Peter hadn’t exactly had a Penny day while Thor and Loki had been around, yet. Well, not while she was _around_ them. She had just assumed that no one had told them yet, because she sure as hell hadn’t.

Thor, ever a ray of brilliant sunshine, just smiled at Peter. “If I had called Loki a ‘he’ when I was not supposed to, he would have cut me down where I stood. I learned my lesson when we were children. My hair didn’t grow back for a full year, and I was very careful about it from that day forward.”

Okay. Several things to process.

But the thing that tripped Peter up was _Loki-_!?

She turned to him in her seat, eyes wide and curious as she regarded him.

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It wasn’t quite a year,” he admonished.

Thor scoffed and began his rebuttal, but Loki just excused him with an amused smile and took a delicate sip of his wine.

Peter stared plainly at Loki in wonder. Tumblr was right. As you get older the world only gets queerer and queerer in _all the best ways_. “So you’re genderqueer, too?” she asked, tugging on Loki’s soft sleeve to gain his attention once more. It probably wasn’t necessary; Loki’s attention was on nearly everything at every moment – it was like he had eight eyes, each one looking dutifully in a different direction.

Loki hummed and looked to her. “If that’s what you call it,” he granted. “But I am simply…” He swished his mouth to the side and took another drink. “I simply am. You do not know the proper words that my people use to describe people like me.”

“I’m genderfluid,” Peter said, holding back some weird impulse that tried to get her to put out her hand in an offer to shake.

Peter had his full attention as she went through what it meant for her. He listened intently, nodding along and commenting at points.

Peter didn’t think he could get cooler.

After dinner, paper plates were all tossed into a large trashcan and Clint and Sam were put on dish duty, leaving them to clean up the silverware used, and to put the leftover food into the refrigerator. Of course, May helped.

Which meant that Peter helped, too. Obviously.

Clint talked with May as they both of them worked on getting all the food consolidated into, like, six full cartons. Peter wrung out a rag and wiped off the kitchen counter, letting their chatter wash over her absently. Sam sidled up next to her, his arms crossed over his chest with his shirt sleeves pushed all the way up to his elbows.

“When are you gonna tell her?” And it totally would’ve sounded like a normal conversation, save for how low Sam’s voice was, tinted with concern.

Peter filled her chest with air and puffed it out slowly. She plucked at the hem of her tee and turned around so she could lean on the counter, watching May as she smiled widely at Clint. “I’m not sure,” she confessed tightly. “I kind of want Tony to be here, ‘cause I don’t know all the details, and she’s going to want to know, like, _all_ of them.”

Sam nodded his head, probably totally understanding. “I would, if it was my kid.”

Peter nodded her head. “Right. And she’s going to be _so pissed_.”

Sam laughed and clapped a hand over her shoulder. “ _So would I_ ,” he assured her.

“Eugh.” Peter finished wiping the cabinet and stashed the rag in the sink. “I gotta go call my baes,” she told Sam surely, slowly inching backwards out of the kitchen.

Sam scoffed, but shooed her out.

* * *

 

     Usually, talking with Ned or Michelle would ease all of her worries and leave her feeling so _good_ , but today they hadn’t even put a dent in her morose mood today.

She’d already talked to Michelle, but she seemed distracted as Peter, trying to finish some kind of essay. Peter didn’t keep her up long, but let her go with sweet words and promises to see her soon.

And then she called Ned, who was in a _really_ good mood, it seemed. Peter locked her room door and settled in, listening to her boyfriend direct the conversation with ease. His ramble did relax her some, but she was still tense, with her mind a billion other places, spread just a little too thin.

“Babe?” Ned called out, bringing Peter back into the present.

Fuck. _See?_ “What’s that?”

“My parents aren’t going to be home this weekend,” Ned repeated easily, “if you wanna come over. Spend some time. Mom told me I could have you both over if I wanted.” Peter’s breath caught as she processed the offer instantly. “I’ve already told Michelle. And I’ve got, you know, _stuff_. So, if you wanna.”

Peter caught her bottom lip between her teeth and sucked in a breath. “I want to,” she said quickly. “I just need to get a go from Mr. Stark and May.”

“Cool,” Ned said excitedly. “Fingers crossed.”

“Fingers crossed,” Peter replied, smiling.

* * *

 

     The next morning, Peter put a few things in a blender and pulsed it. Aunt May had stayed in the room across from his. She had, apparently, went to bed late, too caught up in visiting with some of the other people living in the compound.

Which was cool, sure. It meant that she slept in. And since she slept in, Peter had more time to think about what the hell he was going to tell her. ‘Cause let him tell you, buddy he was having _trouble._ Fucking heaps of it.

Tony got home late last night, so Peter was good on that. Sadly, Peter had already crossed _Leave Tony To Deal With It_ off the list of options. So there was that. Damn, Peter had better be booted to Top Favorite Child after this.

Okay, but even though Tony was here and Peter had absolved to save his ass from May’s fury, he still need to, like, he here for when Peter told May.

Cause Tony and Rhodey were busy planning the mission, going through shit and getting everything taken care of. Cool, cool, good deal. But, uh. Tony had all the solid-maybe-not-so-solid details, and he was kinda keeping them from Peter. Just a little bit. It was still in planning mode, so Peter didn’t really hold it against Tony, though.

_Oh shit, his smoothie._

He shut off the blender and tipped the pitcher spout directly into his mouth so he could taste it.

 _Dang it_. Too smooth. Weirdly smooth. _Gross_.

He blanched and just dumped the whole thing down the sink. He watched the disturbing green color swirl down the drain for a minute before he took the hose and rinsed it down the rest of the way.

Puffing out his cheeks, he turned and leaned against the counter, rubbing his hands over his face. He looked up just in time to see Tony cross into the kitchen, a towel over his shoulders and a water bottle in hand. He looked Peter over and squinted.

“So I take it you haven’t told May yet, then?” he deadpanned.

Peter groaned. “That isn’t fair,” he huffed.

Tony tutted him. “Of course it is.”

“I wanna go home this weekend, then,” Peter said, trying to negotiate.

Tony lifted an eyebrow and grabbed an apple from the bowl. He looked down, watching as his thumb rubbed over the red and green skin. He looked Peter over again. “You know, no one is forcing you to stay here, right?” he asked carefully.

Peter’s eyes narrowed before he realized how his statement must have sounded. “Oh my God,” he muttered. “No, I meant, like, don’t schedule anything for me. I want to, uh… I want to go and see my girl and boyfriend before this whole thing happens. I wanna tell them face to face before I, y’know, just ghost.”

Tony’s face softened. “Yeah, of course,” he said. “You’ve got however much time you need.” He paused. “And it looks like you’ll need a lot, because you haven’t even told May yet.”

Peter groaned. “Shut up,” he begged. “I’m trying to psych myself up for it.”

“Make her a pamphlet,” he advised with a smirk. “I hear they worked well last time.”

Peter paused, considering what that meant. And then he remembered the pamphlets he’d made when he came out to Bucky a month and some weeks prior. He made a sour face. “I’m sorry, is everyone in this house married to each other? How do you all spread news around like this?”

“It’s called the grapevine,” Tony said easily. He raised his bottle in salute and twisted on his heel.

“You suck, Mr. Stark!” Peter called after him. Tony just laughed all the way down the hallway. Ugh, what an _ass._

* * *

 

     Peter stared at May from across the couch and bit his lip. She caught his eye and gave him a curious look, but he just sighed and looked back to the movie. Not even amazing Diana of Themyscira could distract him – and listen man, Wonder Woman was like, his favorite movie. Normally, there wasn’t anything the dreamy faces of Gal Gadot and Chris Pine couldn’t fix.

Except this, obviously.

But he didn’t have to suffer too much longer, because apparently May had had _enough_. “ _That’s_ it,” she declared and scooped up the remote to shut the TV off. “Tell me.” She turned so that she was facing Peter, an expectant look on her face.

Peter scratched at his thigh, shrugging. “What’s there to tell?” he asked shakily.

“There’s obviously _something_ ,” she said, and _really_ , Peter should have known better than to think she didn’t know something was up with him.

Peter twisted his thumb into his thigh and cleared his throat. “So Tony wants me to go on this mission…”

He paused, waiting for a good moment while he stared at the hard wood flooring. Usually, May would have cut in by then, demanding to know fucking _everything_ about everything and where Tony was so she could hear it from him, too, just in case Peter was toning everything down just so she wouldn’t get angry.

But she was quiet, letting him go on with grace.

“Uh… okay,” he murmured. “Undercover, trying to get in good with Mr. Toomes’ crew and determine, like, how to take down their operation.”

May did frown at that. “How long?”

“We don’t know yet, we’re thinking something like a month? Month and a half? It all depends on how fast I can get in with the group.”

May looked seriously off to the side, somewhere over Peter’s head. “Do you want to go?” she asked. She blinked, and then looked back to meet Peter’s eye.

The question caught him by surprise, but he didn’t have to stumble for a response. “Yeah, I do,” he said tightly.

“Did _he_ ask you if you wanted to go?” she pressed, and Peter winced.

Not… really? Usually, someone just had to mention that they needed help on a mission and Peter was volunteering emphatically, up and ready to go. He supposed that everyone was just used to that by now and just put him on the roster when they needed him.

May’s mouth thinned and she made an unhappy noise. “Are you going alone?”

Peter shook his head. “Tony says that I’m gonna have some of our best with me for back up. I think it’s stupid, but he says it’s important.”

“Who is it? Are you sure that they can take care of you?”

Peter frowned, pulling his leg up on the couch next to him. “I can take care of myself,” he protested weakly. She gave him a sharp look. “I don’t know yet. They’re looking through everyone to determine the best match.”

“I want to know everything that’s happening,” she said seriously. “I want to know everything that I can, hear me? Otherwise I’m gonna be worried sick, sitting in the living room while I develop wrinkles in my forehead. Don’t give me forehead wrinkles, kid.”

Peter nodded quickly, murmuring “Yes, ma’am,” quickly. He licked his lips, sighing through his nose. “You aren’t mad?” he asked, just to make sure.

“Oh, I’m pissed,” she said, “and I’m gonna go bite Stark’s ear off as soon as this movie’s done.” Her jaw was set, but she picked up the remote again and turned the TV on, settling back into the couch with her bowl of popcorn.

Uh. That went better… than he thought… kinda?

And May totally did fight Tony, Peter overheard it (Yes, on purpose. He totally crouched next to Tony’s office door and listened in). There were safety concerns, but it sounded like Tony snipped through several layers of red tape so he could explain what he could in the vaguest way possible.

Peter had to leap away from the door when May left. She looked him over, totally unimpressed. She got him up and shooed him off to bed. He kissed her good night and she hugged him tightly before scooting off to her own bedroom Tony had put her up in down the hall.

* * *

 

     The weekend came quicker than Peter really thought it would. May went back to their apartment one second, and Peter was packing to go to Ned’s the next.

Which, _ha ha ha, this is gonna be fucking Great_.

Tony took him aside right before he began packing for his weekend off and asked him if he had everything he needed, toothbrush, clean clothes ( _Okay, Aunt May_ ). And then he asked if Peter had condoms, lubrication, and was in a good mental space for _“Whatever the hell ‘going home for the weekend’ means to kids these days.”_ Like good fucking God, Tony, the embarrassment couldn’t get worse, _thanks_.

Peter just shrugged him off and assured him that he’d be _fine_ , God, leave him alone!

Even if his mindset was a little off, his partners had this, like, superpower and picked up on it _instantly_. So even if he, you know, _wasn’t there_ , he still had the entire car ride to get there.

 _Oof_. He tossed his bag in the back of the car and tucked himself in the backseat, immediately slumping morosely with a huff of breath. Happy eyed him from the rearview mirror, but didn’t say anything as they pulled away from the curb.

* * *

 

      Peter stood in front of Ned’s apartment door. She shook off her worries and her pressures. She sighed a lungful of air out as slow as she could before knocking.

Ned opened the door after a second, a wide smile stretched across his mouth. “This is weird,” he decided, “you knocked. You never knocked.”

Peter just shrugged, laughing. “I forgot my key at home.”

Ned nodded, deciding that it made sense before he took Peter’s hand and pulled her into the apartment. “MJ’s not here yet,” he told her, “had to run to the store with her grandma.”

“Did she need help?” Peter quizzed casually, dumping her bag near the entryway,

“Nah, she’ll be quick.”

Peter turned to him with a sly smile and pulled him backwards through the apartment, towards Ned’s bedroom. “Cool,” she said, “’cause I know she wouldn’t forget her key.”

* * *

 

     And she didn’t. Hours later, they were all spread out along Ned’s full sized bed, limbs splayed out, while they caught their breath, the room cooling back down.

Peter was half-tucked into Michelle, breathing into her collarbone while she held Ned’s hand across her hip. Their legs were in a tangled mess, all tucked into each other. It was so nice, staying like this. Peter almost thought she could fall asleep like this, their combined body heat making her fuzzy and content, with Michelle’s nails raking through her hair – but even so. She had been distracted for a little while, but her assignment took front-and-center once more. It prodded and poked at her, making her all-too-aware at how her time was running out, and how she had to tell them beforehand.

She squeezed her eyes shut and took in a shuddering breath, shifting closer to Michelle as she did. Ned’s arm moved, tucking closer around her waist, his nose brushing the nape of her neck. His fingers tapped out a gentle rhythm on her ribcage, and Michelle’s fingers never stopped carding through her hair.

“So I think I’ve got a mission soon,” Peter croaked out breathlessly.

Ned hummed and he shifted to lean up on his elbow, hooking his chin over Peter’s shoulder. “What kind?” he asked, sincerely curious about it. “Are you guys going somewhere cool and overseas? Oh my God, how dope would it be to fight someone on an inactive volcano?”

Peter laughed breathily, relaxing slightly.

“What if the volcano became active?” Michelle asked. “Then you’d have to deal with assholes trying to kill you, _and_ magma coming after your ass.”

“That why Iron Spider is a thing,” Ned argued, looking over Peter’s shoulder at her. His palm was pressed against Peter’s stomach, now, warming her skin and easing her nerves a bit. “Just, like, _tink, tink, tink-_ ,” he walked his fingers up Peter’s side and over her shoulder, simulating the spider legs that was the Iron Spider suit’s trademark feature. “-over the magma, and her feet and ass are all un-burnt.”

Michelle snorted, lifting an eyebrow. “What if they melt?”

“They won’t, she has the iron legs.”

Michelle rolled her eyes. “No, I _meant_ the iron legs.”

“Oh. Well, Mr. Stark won’t let me see the suit, so I can’t really argue that.”

“I’m not allowed to tell you, because he’s scared what we’re gonna do with that information,” Peter confessed. “He’s still salty about the shit we pulled last time.”

Ned laughed, melting into her side. “It all turned out okay, though,” he sighed happily.

Peter hummed and maneuvered her arm so that she could rub over his bare shoulder. “Yeah.”

She must have trailed off oddly at that, because Michelle pulled back a little and looked down at her curiously. Peter bit her lip and sighed tightly. “Okay, uh, that’s actually what my mission has to do with – Vulture’s people, and stuff. We’re, uhm. _I_ am gonna try to root all of the people up and get their connections so we can take them down.”

“Whoa, like espionage?”

“Kind of,” she granted. “It’s only for, like, a month-.”

“Wait, hang on a second,” Ned demanded. Michelle’s fingers stilled in her hair and Peter winced hard. “I thought you meant, like, go there and Spiderman your way in and then, like, leave again.”

Slowly, Peter shook her head. “No, I mean, long-term espionage. I’m gonna _legit_ be a spy. I’ve gotta go live in a weird apartment, and pretend that I’m totally _in_ on the arms-dealing scene. Mr. Stark is getting everything ready, and I’m leaving in a couple of weeks.”

“Peter,” Ned said. “What about, like, school? Or Aunt May?”

“I told May already, and she’s letting me go. I don’t know about school, yet.” She extracted herself from their comfy tangle of limbs and sat on her knees facing them, head ducked in something anxious kind of shame. “I wanted to tell you both now, because I’m gonna be really busy for the next little while, and I didn’t want to tell you over the phone, because that would be shitty, and neither of you deserve that.”

Neither Ned nor Michelle seemed like they had much to say at that point – or, if they did, they were holding it all back behind disapproving eyes and thinned lips.

“Promise you won’t die,” Michelle said suddenly. “Be careful and don’t be stupid. Don’t get shot.” Her eyes flamed with something Peter took to actually mean _don’t get shot **again.**_

Ned nodded along, unaware of the tiny detail. They hadn’t really told Ned about the whole Peter “Moving Target” Parker thingy.

She didn’t hesitate in agreeing. “I’ll do my best not to get shot and I won’t die.” (Again, Peter’s mind supplied darkly.) “I Promise.”

Ned looked thoughtful, his face darkening with the promise to stay on this side of the “staying alive” line. “Lay back down,” he said after a second. “If you’re going away for months, I want to cuddle you.”

Peter smiled at him and tucked herself back down. They were all settled and comfy again when Michelle made a show of sighing. “I’m _cold_ ,” she declared, rolling out of bed so she could retrieve the quilt at the end of the bed. Within another minute, they were all covered up and snug. Peter shut her eyes and dropped off to sleep.

* * *

 

     Peter blew out a careful breath as Tony presented her with the file over breakfast.

She thought it was weird, taking her out to iHOP, only to give her a super classified operation file, but Tony had done stranger things.

Tony was halfway through his omelet when Peter flipped the cover of the file open and began skimming.

Alias was none other than Peter Chekov.

Peter’s eyes lit up and she smiled up at Tony. “Chekov, Chekov? Like Star Trek?”

Tony snorted, going for his drink. “Your cover was almost going to be Pavel Chekov, true to form, but Rhodey said no, so my hands are tied.” They met eyes and Peter was cracking up. Tony smiled and sipped his coffee.

“Do I fit Chekov from the old series?” Peter asked. “I only watched the Quinto/Pine movies, never the original ones.”

“Well, you fit Yelchin’s portrayal. Child prodigy and all that. Math whiz.” He waved his hand demonstratively. “So you’re Peter Chekov, nineteen years old. Kicked out of MIT for a brief altercation concerning a bigoted fuck who deserved what he got. Your family life is in shambles. You’ve got a lot to gain, and we’ve got to frame how desperate you are, obviously. This is Rhodey’s genius.” He shook his head, face a pure picture of a 1950’s housewife. All ‘ _God, what a man!’_ Would Peter be surprised if he swooned? Nah.

“We got two birds with one stone here. This is your op, but you need backup. May would murder me in cold blood if I even considered letting you go in without it. So we’ve got it for you. Meet your new dads.” He paused, frowning. “Well, your new-new dads. Jesus, how many parental units do you have? Right, okay; a couple of military vets, one unemployed and living off disability, the other is an English teacher, so he’s basically also unemployed for the rest of the summer. You all live in a tiny apartment in Brooklyn. Money’s strapped and you’re just trying to do your part and help the family.”

Peter nodded, taking it all in. She was sure that it was all in the file, but hearing it from Tony made it just a little bit easier to take in. She flicked through the pages to find the section on her “family.”

She stopped short at the two pictures on either pages. She bit her lip and looked at Tony, trying to see if it was a joke or not.

He nodded grimly. “Trust me, I know. But I think it’ll work out. Hopefully.” He sighed heavily, hoping to every higher power that he was right.

For the first time in a long time, Peter considered praying – because her new fathers were none other than James Buchanan Barnes and Sam Wilson.

**Author's Note:**

> me, gasping:  _i love this universe,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, witness me,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,_
> 
> [tumblr](http://peanutbutterandbitter.tumblr.com)!!


End file.
